


Taris - Balac (Opportunity)

by Clio_Codex



Series: Wandering Stars [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clio_Codex/pseuds/Clio_Codex
Summary: It's been four years since Revan's victory at Malachor V and the Mandalorian clans are scattered and broken.  Canderous Ordo has found work as a mercenary on Taris, but is that truly a path to an honorable life?  An unexpected alliance brings new opportunities.Begins before the action of KotOR, and runs through the start of the game.  Continues the series but works as a standalone too.“Su cuy’gar.”  Cold steel tickled at his throat.The arm holding the knife was slim, but anyone capable of having gotten the jump on him like this was not to be underestimated.  Or maybe he was just getting old and sloppy. “Yeah, what do you want?”“You.  Or rather, what you may be able to offer.”Interesting.  He’d play. “How about you put away the blade and I’ll buy you a drink?”
Relationships: Canderous Ordo/Original Character(s)
Series: Wandering Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952851
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. Aoibhinn & Canderous

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my head canon :). I could give a long explanation for where this story came from but....for now, I'll just say it grew out of interest in what motivated Canderous Ordo to stick around for this little adventure. And, yes, I do have an original character in a starring role...happy to say more about why if that's of interest, but for now, I hope you'll give the story a go!
> 
> The first story in this series - Cuyin - is intended as a prologue for the rest of the series although this story makes sense without it as well.

That instinct Aoibhinn only half understood, but never ignored, had sent her back to Taris.She hadn’t been sure what she’d possibly find in the failing city-world, either in the false gleam of the upper city or the miseries of its lower levels.Weeks later she was wondering if perhaps finally her instinct had failed her; what answers could she find here?

It hardly mattered now and not enough had listened when it did. She had always known things that could not yet be known, an ability that had helped sway many battles, but in the end it was not enough.For four years she’d been haunted by this failure, whether hers or her people’s she wasn’t sure.Perhaps they’d simply faced a superior foe.She tried not to think of where they’d been left, scattered and broken.

She’d been to Taris before, of course, as part of the Mandalorian occupation force, as always whispering strategy in her father’s ear.Eight years later, Taris felt much the same.The upper city was filled with those with the money to avoid the miseries below the surface, the swoop gangs that had once resisted occupation in the lower city were reduced to infighting, and the under city was infested by rakghouls and desperation.

What she cursed herself for not seeing was the Sith blockade that now cut off her escape. 

Then there was the problem of credits.As distasteful as it was, picking up a bounty or two was more honorable than petty theft.So she found herself in a cantina in the lower city considering an audience with the Hutt playing intermediary for Davik Kang, the real head of the Taris underworld.

As had become her habit, she wore a hooded cloak, concealing her face. There was little danger in anyone knowing who she was, but certainly _what_ she was would be pretty obvious to anyone with a clear view.Unlike most in the clans, she had escaped Malachor with her life and her blades, and she had little desire to entertain questions on the how of that.The cloak helped.

She sat in a corner booth, hands around a drink she wasn’t drinking, watching.Best to scout the situation first.For hours, she considered the comings and going, the usual suspects of a place such as this - the bounty hunters, swoop gang members, assorted unaffiliated thugs, the hopeful gamblers, and the sorry sacks at the bar. That inner voice said, _wait._

She heard it before she saw him, a familiar curse in Mando’a. Her eyes narrowed to focus across the haze of the room.The voice, mostly in Basic now, was vaguely familiar.Wishful thinking? She smiled faintly, recognizing the man’s face from her father’s strategy sessions late in the war;Ordo, she thought.He’d been a leader of his clan, and another who’d survived Malachor then.But why here?No doubt gone mercenary like so many who’d survived.They said it was to find honor in the challenge, but she wasn’t so sure.

Meeting the Hutt fell out of her mind at this new possibility - an ally?Perhaps a way out.Plans formed.Two could do what one could not.And, she recalled, this one was clever and certainly a good fighter.One does not rise to lead a clan if one is not.

She would watch him first, learn what she could, then make herself known to him.He would either be afraid of what she was or respect it, that was always the way of it; either she could use. Bounty hunting was forgotten at the thrill of this unexpected find.

******

“Su cuy’gar.”Cold steel tickled at his throat.

The arm holding the knife was slim, but anyone capable of having gotten the jump on him like this was not to be underestimated.Or maybe he was just getting old and sloppy. _“Yeah, what do you want?”_

_“You.Or rather, what you may be able to offer.”_

Interesting.He’d play. _“How about you put away the blade and I’ll buy you a drink?”_

 _“Dinner.”_ The voice replied. _“A nice one.Not the shit at the cantina ‘round the way.Upper city grub.You’ve got the credits.”_

A woman who knew her mind and apparently him, definitely interesting. _“You seem to know a lot about me.”_

 _“I’ve been watching.”_ Well, then, he must be getting sloppy.Not much in this part of Taris escaped his notice, but she obviously had.

He let amusement creep into his voice; it had been a while since he’d felt a good challenge. _“Like what you see?”_

 _“Not sure yet.”_ She, too, sounded playful, but the knife held steady. _“Maybe it depends on dinner.”_

_“The Blue Room.Place on the promenade.Know it?”_

_“I’m sure I can find it.Two hours then.”_

_“How will I know you?”_

_“I know you.”_ And then she was gone.He turned just quickly enough to catch a glimpse of a cloaked figure, blades on her back, disappearing into the shadows. 

Two hours later he found himself at a corner table at The Blue Room, not really his kind of place this. Too many Tarisians with noses in the air, noses they were eager to look down at someone they perceived as just another bloody mercenary.But she was right…. the food and drink were good in these nicer parts of the upper city.He nursed a whiskey, watching the door. _I know you._ He tried placing her voice.It had been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of hearing the rhythms of his language; that alone would have brought him to accept the invitation.But he confessed he was more than a little intrigued by who the hell she was, what she was doing here, and why she’d sought him out.

 _“Nice place.”_ How had she snuck up like that again?He’d had eyes on the door. _Idiot._ She’d likely been here well before he arrived, staking her positions.So she was cautious….and smart. And he was getting sloppy, complacent; should have thought about why she’d wanted two hours.

She unstrapped the blades from her back, threw off her cloak, and took a seat, leaving another pair of weapons he vaguely recognized hanging from her waist. _“Care for a drink?”_ He signaled the waiter.

 _“Sure.”_ She grinned and helped herself to his whiskey, then slid the empty glass back towards him. _“You have good taste. ‘Nother round?”_

_“Many as you want,”_ he laughed, and meant it too.

She raised a brow. _“Careful what you offer, Ordo.”_ So she’d seen - and knew - his clan tat.Good.He registered that her dark hair was twisted in an elaborate braid that fell over her shoulder.It made her look younger than he supposed she must be, but meant she held to tradition.She’d also not bothered to hide her own clan tat, clearly visible on her bare arm.Wasn’t ashamed - or afraid - of what she was.That was good, too.She scanned the room, no doubt noticing the glares. _“Not sure the locals much approve of us.”_

Her steady gaze made him feel as though he were being tested, sized up, made him wish he’d bothered to shower. _“Well, the credits help of course.But you don’t strike me as a woman who much cares about other’s opinions.”_ He nodded towards her clan mark. _“Wouldn’t be making that quite so obvious if you did.”_ Her name more than his would be soundly unwelcome in Taris, in many places really.

The waiter returned with two fresh glasses; she took one, ran her finger round the rim. _“Depends on the owner of the opinions.”_ She sat back, waiting for him to take the invitation.

He leaned in, _“Canderous Ordo.Owner of many opinions. You gotta name?”_

She flashed that smirky grin again, _“Fett,”_ she offered. _“But you know that part.Aoibhinn Fett.Maybe you know that, too.”_ She took a drink. _“Perhaps I should apologize for introducing myself at the tip of a knife, but you can’t be too careful these days.”_ He recognized her now, sort of.He supposed he’d not really seen her face much, if at all, but he’d known of her to be sure.Everyone knew of Cassus Fett’s prodigy daughter, his top strategist and by reputation a fearless leader in the field.That certainly made things considerably more interesting. 

He remembered, too, the other thing people had said about Fett’s daughter: Some had called her a seer; others a witch. The weapons at her waist suggested something else.Curious.The truth would come with trust and time - and he was a patient man when it benefited him.

Things were off to a good start, he thought, smiling broadly. _“Hungry?”_

_“Davik Kang, huh.I suppose there are worse jobs to take.”_ She twirled her glass in her hands.

He’d tried to explain in the last hour his work as hired gun on Taris, feeling suddenly inadequate in the telling. Chasing bounties and tossing about hapless souls was hardly worthy of his station. But so much fell after Malachor.Maybe she understood.He drained another glass. _“What brings you to Taris?”_

_“I’m searching.”_ Her glass stopped. 

_“For?”_

_“Well, presently for a way off Taris.”_ She smiled faintly. She’d kept her tone playful, flirty even, but there was something serious lurking just beneath. And that hadn’t really been an answer. _“But before pondering that little problem, I’m going to visit the ‘fresher; no doubt it’s fancy in a joint like this.Watch these.”_ She laid her blades on the table as she walked off. _Is that trust?Or a test?_

They were beautiful blades, Mandalorian steel with decorative hilts, marked with her sigil.Valuable.Well kept, too.He ran an appreciative finger across the hilts.You could tell a lot about a person from their weapons.

He wanted to ask her many things.Where she had wandered these last four years.Why she had come here.How she had escaped Malachor.And now knowing who she was, what she’d claimed to know at that last gathering of Mand’alor’s battle commanders, some warning that none would heed. _Seer._ But not yet.

She slid back to her seat, gently brushing her own fingers down one blade. _“They were a gift from my father when I was 13.”_ She sounded wistful. _“All that’s left I suppose.”_ Of course, she’d know loss as all who remained did.But there was no regret in losses from honest battle. _Was there?_ They sat in silence, fingers on cold steel, eyes locked.

The moment was broken by the arrival of food and another round. _“It is good to speak to one of the clans.It’s been a while.”_ He aimed to lighten the mood again. 

That was true of course.And the comfort of a familiar tongue made him feel like talking, so he did.Not about anything important, too soon for that.Instead he spun stories of his work on Taris (such as it was) that slipped into some explanation of how he had come here, then some tales of early in the war, before Dxun, before Malachor (not yet).She didn’t say much, but regarded him with intensity.He imagined her features softened into a smile - the grin from before had been a careful front; this more real.Perhaps that was the whiskey.Or perhaps she really was a witch and she’d charmed him.Either way he wanted to know more, so he kept talking to keep her gaze.

He wasn’t sure of the hour, but given the emptiness of the place and the annoyed glances from the staff it was quite late.He’d talked too much, but she’d not objected; in fact, she seemed to encourage and enjoy it.Her few words seemed aimed at drawing out more of his tales, her focus clear.Of course, he realized, this meant she’d avoided telling her own stories.What was her game?Maybe he didn’t care. _Maybe you’re an old fool._ _Don’t be sloppy._

It was good to see someone that sounded like home, but it reminded him of the sore spot he tried to ignore.The spot that chafed at his current situation, no matter how feared he might be in the streets of Taris. The spot that knew this life was the way to a slow death.

They left it with a promise to meet again in two nights at the cantina down the way, the nice one - she’d insisted.It was only after she’d left that he thought to wonder where she was going.For a moment he worried, but then remembered the blades on her back and the reputation she’d carried - a woman who was skilled at fighting, more skilled than most.She would not have survived to here were she not more than capable.Two nights felt too far away.

_*****_

After, she’d stood in the shadows and watched him walk away, back to wherever Davik housed his crew, she supposed.Or maybe to the bed of some woman…she pushed that thought aside but didn’t know why.

She’d been careful with the liquor, and it never affected her much anyway, but still she felt lightheaded; she had shown more of her true self than she’d intended.Maybe it was the memories roused by Ordo’s stories or the man himself, the scent of home in his words.To think of home was a warmth she wanted to allow, but feared all the same.

She’d found her eyes tracing the mark of his clan more than once.The longer they’d sat and talked, well she’d urged him to do most the talking, the more she felt some hidden part of herself pushing to the surface, that piece that had scabbed over to tamp down the hurt and regret left by the end of the war.The plan had been simply to assess the man’s access to some way off Taris, not to spend half the night being charmed over drinks.How had she allowed herself to get so side tracked?

Canderous Ordo.She thought about what she knew.They’d not really known each other, more known of.Everyone knew her father of course, at least by reputation.Everyone on both sides.And she had been his shadow.Before they came to Republic space even, but moreso afterward.She’d been a child at the start of it all, but ten years in her armor by Malachor and worthy of the last order she’d been given.But she’d failed.They all had.

Ordo’s stories let her ignore that part of the past for a time.They were about the war and its aftermath but somehow not about her.And either he was a glorious liar or a charmed warrior (she suspected the latter) and a hell of a story teller to boot.She hadn’t meant to, but she found herself getting lost in his words, in some unspoken possibility of the future in them.Maybe there was honor in battle.Maybe defeat was just part of the game.Maybe they would rise again.

She had a bed in cheap apartment near a lower-city cantina, not that she slept much.Long ago she realized that meditation was nearly as good as sleep, at least for a while.Sleep made you vulnerable, made you dream, brought up more thoughts better left in the past. And you can’t fight ghosts, can you?

In the lobby of her building she stepped carefully around assorted drunks and sad-sacks; the place stunk.Her apartment was only marginally better - peeling paint, threadbare carpet, mis-matched, half-broken furniture.She longed for the tents of her childhood or even a bedroll under an open sky, the scent of a fire and clear night air.

Ordo had mentioned possible opportunities; they were to meet again to discuss.Two more nights wasn’t so long to wait.


	2. Canderous & Aoibhinn

Davik had sent him on yet another run to the under city.Apparently a few of his goons had run into some trouble and hadn’t returned, so now Canderous was on clean up duty.Money wasn’t good enough for this nonsense, mopping up after the goons and chasing down low-lifes who’d gotten themselves in too deep with the Exchange. The stories he’d told Aoibhinn the night before reminded him of what he had once been, reminded him that this work was a pale imitation of the honor of battle.

Things were even worse now that that little shit Calo Nord had returned.He wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the man’s attitude or the modified Mandalorian armor he insisted on wearing. Only a coward would feel the need for armor in the streets of Taris anyway; what kind of trouble was the man expecting to run into?That his own armor had been taken from him as the price of defeat at Malachor was a thought he pushed aside, the loss of it another thing he’d labeled _temporary_ that had threatened to become permanent the longer he lingered on Taris.

She’d followed him through the sewers of the under city as he’d looked for the goons.Didn’t mind her watching, but found himself wishing for a fight at least so there was something worth seeing. As he continued his search, he gave her no indication that he was aware of her presence. 

The goons turned up dead in the end, their bodies already stripped of anything worth taking. Just another shit day on Taris.

Later as he sat in his usual spot at the lower city cantina, he considered calling her out, asking her to join him.He’d enjoyed her company far more than he ought to have, foolish he knew.But it was hard not to think of the way her eyes had traced his face as they’d talked, the way he imagined they’d watched him all day.It was foolish, too, that he’d mentioned opportunities.A woman like that deserved far more than she’d find working as a gun-for-hire for the Exchange. 

There was one thing though.She wanted off Taris and he needed to go.The two of them together stood a pretty good chance of making that happen, despite the complications of the blockade.

He smiled at the thought, hoping she saw.

*****

Aoibhinn spent the time since their dinner watching him from the shadows.He’d told no-one of their meeting, a sign that she had his trust. She’d thought he wouldn’t, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. The watching confirmed the rest of his story as well, that he was acting enforcer for Davik, that he was known by sight by most of the underworld and much of the polite society of Taris.

Two nights had meant time to think, too, of what it would mean to form an alliance.She had been solely on her own for nearly four years now.Even before Malachor she was not one to trust easily or form friendships. Most feared her anyway, either because of what she could do or because of who her father was, which made it difficult to ever feel at ease with someone. That Ordo seemed unbothered by either fact was promising, as was his straightforwardness.He’d made no attempt to lie about his current situation. 

Still, caution served her well, so she arrived at the cantina well before the agreed upon hour.If he was smart, which she thought he was, he’d have noted her own early arrival at their last meeting. She half expected he would be waiting for her, but he was no where to be seen when she entered.So she took a back booth, ordered a bottle of whiskey, and waited.

_“Eager to see me then?”_ A smile sprang to her face unbidden at the voice behind her; he’d been waiting after all. He chuckled as he slid into the booth across from her, _“Didn’t want to let you get the jump on me a third time.”_

She knew he’d seen her smile already, so she didn’t bother to hide her pleasure. _“Consider it a test.”_

_“A test?Is that what you’d call the way you’ve been watching me the last two days?”_ So he’d been paying attention then.Good.She knew he’d been embarrassed at the way he’d missed her presence before. 

She poured him a glass. _“Didn’t think you’d noticed.”_

He grinned and leaned across the table towards her to take the drink, _“Well, you have my attention now, Aoibhinn Fett.Don’t think you’ll escape my notice again.”_

Something in his tone sparked heat in her belly.A challenge perhaps?Or maybe she’d just been too long without a good lay and welcomed the tease. _“Good.”_ She laughed and sipped her whiskey, eyeing him over the glass.

Several hours later she realized that once again she’d been lost in the damn man’s words and had let her focus on escaping Taris fall to the background.This, the just sitting and talking, was nice, she admitted to herself. There was pleasure in listening to his voice, watching the mischief in his eyes, something both soothing and tempting in the way he made her laugh.And she didn’t mind the way he watched her, either, the way his eyes followed her hands or mapped across her face.She’d certainly had plenty of attention from men before and did not lack from experience, but there was something in the way he looked at her that kept fanning that spark. _Just nostalgia,_ she tried telling herself.

They’d once again carried their conversation into the wee hours of the morning somehow arriving at the suggestion of a partnership. _“You’re offering me a job?”_

_“An opportunity, one better than chasing cheap bounties.And, if we play our hand well, a ship,”_ he gave a self-satisfied grin, as though he knew her answer.

_“You assume I’m saying yes,”_ she leaned towards him, an eyebrow raised.

He poured them both another glass before leaning in himself, _“You want a ship.So, yes, I assume you are.”_ Their fingers brushed.His eyes sparked.

_“Alright, I’m interested.Tell me more.”_

He explained that Davik had a ship, a fast one, and that stealing it wouldn’t be so hard for the two of them together.The real problem was the Sith blockade.He’d done some poking and knew that if one had the right codes, one could manage to get out.They’d need to put in some time to learn more.And since Davik was on reasonable terms with the Sith, the easiest way to poke further was to keep working for Davik.Selling her as a new partner would be easy; she was clearly a fighter and had the right skills.He figured a few weeks would get them the information they needed.If they were lucky, the Sith might even pack up the blockade soon - rumor suggested as much.And, worse case, they’d just bide their time. 

She felt herself smiling again as he talked, an opportunity indeed.But there was one other thing she had to know first. _“Before I say yes….you’ve got blades, yeah?Tomorrow, we spar.You pick the place.Then I’ll give you an answer.”_

He smiled back.

He’d walked with her back to the lower city.She’d not asked and he hadn’t offered; they’d just kept talking all the way to the door of her building.Some small part of her wondered what would happen if she invited him in.Past Aoibhinn would have, the one who was always looking for a warm body and a quick fuck to chase off a chill.Such a thought felt cheap now.Instead she’d just wished him good night and closed the door behind her.

Somehow though the pleasure of the evening didn’t leave her, coaxed her into actually lying in the bed as though she might try to sleep.His words echoed, _you have my attention now_.She’d laughed hadn’t she?A true laugh.Curious.She was pondering the strangeness of that when sleep overtook her.

_The man beside her was sleeping, snoring softly in the wake of their coupling. What had his name been?She had meant to forget.There was a small piece of her that felt some guilt at her rough use of this one and the others, but mostly she figured it didn’t matter; she left them happy did she not?She wouldn’t stay to share his sleep; that was her rule.No intimacies, no attachments.If she saw this one again, she’d pretend it had never happened, that he was forgotten.That he might die, that she might….she felt these things should bother her but she couldn’t remember why._

_The Republic was coming, with ten times their numbers and a new found resolve to win.And win they would.She knew this clearly- her people would fight well, but in the end they would lose this moon.It was a careful thing to navigate her gifts.To tell them they must run now…that was not a message that would be heard.She’d have to find another way to salvage what she could from this place._

_Her father had raised her a warrior, called her a beautiful weapon as she stood before the commanders.And she was - both fierce with her blades and clever with her strategies.The men listened and followed where she led.They’d follow here to defeat.Sometimes you have to cede the battle to win a war- or so she told herself._

_The jungle was sticky and dense, thick with beasts and the many defenses they’d had time to lay before the enemy arrived.Many would die.It was always raining, sometimes only a mist and other times heavy showers.Nothing could stay dry._

_When the fight came it was ugly.They held their lines, Republic troops breaking in waves on their defenses. Mud mingled with blood, slicked under boots, a festering stink rose from the ground._

_In the end the Republic forces won as she’d known they would.You fought well, her father had said, and she had. There was no dishonor in this defeat.The deaths still hurt; the man who had shared her bed lay among them._

Aoibhinn woke in a cold sweat.

For a moment she was disoriented.When the dreams came they were always so damn real, maybe because they were memories and not dreams at all. Cold water on her face helped to jolt her back to the present, helped remind her that it was just a memory, something come and gone.

She spent the rest of the night trying to meditate, reaching for the one thing her mother had taught her, wishing the morning would hurry.

********

That Aoibhinn had suggested sparring before she’d answer him about a possible partnership had been a welcome surprise.Not least of all because it had been too many years since he’d had a worthy challenge - certainly none of Davik’s goons had much skill with blades - but also because it confirmed the sense he’d had since the start of their dinner together - she was testing him, watching to see he was worth her time and capable of what he promised.In testing him, she was also demonstrating her own worth.These facts pleased him.

Davik had a decent sparring ring, so he’d invited her there.It would give him an opportunity to tempt her further by showing off the ship, the Ebon Hawk, that he now felt certain would be theirs.Just a matter of time. 

When he’d met her outside her building earlier, she’d seemed distracted, maybe even sad.But now as they faced off, she wore her cocky grin. _“Your move, Ordo._ ”Her stance told him that she was taking this very seriously indeed.They’d agreed on single blades; he was no slouch in melee combat, but he’d heard the rumors about her skill, and knew he was a bit out of practice.

Turned out those rumors were true and he wasn’t as rusty as he’d feared.It was quickly clear that she bested him in speed and grace while he had the advantage of a longer reach and brute strength.The cheers of the goons that had gathered to watch seemed pretty evenly aimed at the both of them.They were well-matched.

They’d been at it for a while, stopping only for brief pauses of good-natured banter, when he fell for it - a high feint that gave her a low opening.She swiped his legs from behind, sending them both crashing to the floor.The move had worked as she intended, leaving her with the advantage.She’d managed to pin his blade arm under one knee, held her own blade under his chin.Her other knee wedged between his thighs.That smirky grin grew larger as she felt his body’s reaction to the fight and the closeness of their bodies. 

_“Match to me then?”_ The damn woman winked at him as she pressed her knee just ever so slightly closer.He swallowed a groan at the contact, thought maybe he could hear her heart beating as fast as his own, wondered at the way she was biting her lip.The goons whistled from the sidelines.

Over-confidence is a weakness and a weakness can always be exploited.No doubt, this move had led her to a win in the past, but it wouldn’t today. _“I don’t recall yielding.”_ With a grin of his own he flipped her hard over his shoulder, heard her land with a loud whack on her ass behind him.He bounced quickly to his feet, expecting her to swing back.

Instead, she sat there laughing, looking up at him with something more like a true smile. _“Fair enough, Ordo.Point taken.”_ He extended a hand to indicate a truce; she took it, pulling close to his face as she stood.He could see the beads of sweat on her forehead, heard the pace of her breath matching his own. _“I’m in… partner.”_ Maybe he just wanted it to be there, but he swore he saw in her intense blue eyes the same desire he knew was in his own.Partners then. 

_“Good.”_ He held her hand longer than he needed, but she did not pull away or drop his gaze. _“To partnership.And a rematch anytime.”_

Of course, if she kept looking at him like that….well….he wasn’t sure he’d beat her again.

They sparred plenty in the weeks that followed.Most bouts ended like their first, a draw of sorts, neither willing to cede or claim the upper hand.He felt them dancing around the other thing too, lingering touches and flirty banter.Still there was a line that he did not press. 

As much as that, he’d enjoyed the long hours they spent running odd jobs for Davik. They could pass the time talking about simple things, random bits of personal history, or even just being in silence with each other.Nearly every evening found them nursing whiskeys at the cantina or sharing a meal at one of the nicer restaurants on the promenade.She seemed to get a kick out of the shocked faces the locals made at their rough attire and blades.

Thus far she’d refused Davik’s offer of lodging, insisting on keeping the run-down apartment in the lower city. Normally, Davik would have taken that as an affront, but, like the rest of his goons, he seemed rather taken with Aoibhinn. Davik kept plenty of women around, but they were joygirls mostly; the goons didn’t know how to act around a woman that could easily take any of them in a fight.

They had fallen into an easy routine, a comfortable one.He still told his stories and she listened, but now sometimes told her own.Not the hard ones of course, just the ones they could share with a bit of shared nostalgia.The pleasure of her company and the delight at the slow winning of her trust were almost enough to make him forget the promise of escape. Once in a while that strange sadness would slip into her eyes, and she’d remind him of their objective.Part of him wanted to make that happen more than anything.The other part worried that once they were off world, whatever was between them would end.And that was not a thought he cared to consider.


	3. Canderous & Aoibhinn

Canderous had watched her do it or rather it seen it happen.One minute the guy they were shaking down for intel was refusing to talk; the next he was spilling his guts.In between, Aoibhinn had just looked at him, softly said, “you want to tell us what you know,” and the guy did.He remembered the whispers about Fett’s shadow; _witch,_ some had said. A worry at this thing he did not understand flared.

After she’d looked at him like she knew he’d seen, but said nothing.He thought about the weapons at her waist, the ones she always wore and never used.Maybe if he asked, she’d give an honest answer.Instead he pushed aside his worry and said simply, “ _you have a way about you, huh?”_ She shrugged and they left to follow the lead.

The guy’s information had been good, just dated.No one had answered the door at their knock so they forced their way in.The apartment was sorry, a mess of a place that smelled like despair.A stringy-haired woman emerged from the shadows to answer their demand.

The woman’s husband owed Davik, but was nowhere to be found - of course, just the type.Rules said the woman now owed the debt.Distasteful but nothing to be done. “Please, I don’t have the money. Have some mercy.”The woman was probably on spice; the wide-eyed children behind her likely hadn’t had a meal in days. 

Aoibhinn pulled him aside. _“I won’t do it,”_ she hissed. _“I won’t take her in and leave the kids to rot.”_

_“You think she’s some kind of mother to them?Look at the place.”_ He knew he was right.The woman was in no shape to care for the kids, or herself for that matter.Might be doing them a favor, really. 

_“They’ll be worse off in the streets, and you know it.”_ Anger flashed in her eyes. _“You do this, and I’m out.”_

He looked at the small grubby faces in the corner, scrubbed a hand across his chin, and muttered a curse. He grabbed the woman and slung her around, hard.“Listen, lady.Take care of the kids or I’ll be back.And next time….next time, there’s no stopping what Davik wants.You understand?”The woman nodded.He wasn’t sure she really understood, but maybe there was some chance.He started to throw credits on the table and thought better of it.The oldest kid was maybe eight, hopefully old enough.“Kid, take this, buy some food, ok.Get cleaned up.”The boy took the credits. 

“We’ll be back in a week,” Aoibhinn reminded the woman as they left.“Take care of the kids and make this right, or I’ll gut you myself.” He wasn’t sure but thought maybe she did the thing again, saw how the woman’s face look like she meant to do what she’d been told.The worry at that returned.

When they were back on the street she glanced at him, a pained look in her eye. _“ I’m sorry, but they were just little kids, Ordo.I’ll find the man to bring to Davik.”_ She brushed past him and started walking away into the shadows of the lower city.

He hated himself for needing the reminder that there was no glory in hunting the weak, if what they were doing could even be called hunting.But that she could afford to be self-righteous about it rankled as well.He grabbed her arm, spinning her roughly, used his height to pin her to the wall. _“You think you are better than this?Have other ideas about getting out of this cesspool?”_ He hated himself for doing that, too, for lashing out at his own feeling of failure.

Anger still flashed in her eyes along something else that he couldn’t name.She pushed back, staring at him hard. _“No, Ordo.We are better than this.You are better than this.”_ At that she shoved past him, went a few paces and then stopped, not turning back before she spoke again. _“I need to believe we are better than this.”_

He knew then the something else in her eyes was the same shame that burned in his belly at the thought of spending the rest of his days on Taris.

*****

As had become their habit, they went to the cantina for dinner, the nicer one.They’d not spoken since the afternoon.Aoibhinn knew she’d pushed too hard, but the hollow-eyed children had shaken her. 

Canderous didn’t seem angry though, something else instead.That shook her, too.Things had been so easy between them that she’d taken his trust for granted.Maybe taken for granted, too, that he thought as she did about things, that he’d understand her softness at the helplessness of those kids. 

Maybe she was just ashamed of her softness.Or maybe there was some other source of her shame.

_“Care to share what you are thinking over there?You’re being awful quiet.”_ He’d stopped eating and was just watching her.When she didn’t answer, he added, “ _You at least gonna eat something?”_

She pushed her plate aside. _“I just…”_ Why did she feel so unsure?Because of what happened?Or because she was worried about what he thought? More weakness. She felt her jaw clinch before she spoke again, _“You think what I did today was wrong, was weak.”_

_“Does it matter what I think?”_ There was no malice in the question, just his usual straightforwardness. 

It did matter what he thought, she realized. _“Actually, yes.We are partners.We need to trust each other.”_ His eyes still watched her as she continued, _“I’m sorry for questioning you earlier today.I should not have done so.”_

At that he snorted and shifted back in his chair. _“You don’t owe me that, Aoibhinn.This isn’t a fucking battlefield, and I’m not your commander.You are free to do and say what you please.”_

That response felt confusing. _“I respect the fact that it was you who offered me this opportunity, Ordo.I didn’t intend to question your….”_

_“Stop talking like that.”_ He leaned back towards her, his voice low but rough. _“I asked you to be my partner, not my subordinate.”_

_“I want to be.That’s why I’m trying to apologize.”_

_“You don’t need to apologize for being right.You reminded me of a truth I needed to hear.Why apologize for that?”_

_“But you were angry.”_

He shook his head, looked down at his hands. _“Not at you.”_ On impulse she laid a hand on one of his, hoping he would explain.When he looked back to her, she saw storm clouds in his gray eyes. _“Even before you showed up, I knew this was not the right path.There’s no honor in this life.Now that you’re here….it grates me, Aoibhinn, what I’ve become.”_

She’d not expected that, felt her heart twist at his words, whether for him or herself or the both of them she wasn’t sure. His hand was so warm under hers; she remembered how firm it had felt when they’d clasped hands after sparring that first time, the way he’d let their grasp linger.She wanted her words to be right, but found herself simply repeating what she’d said earlier in the day, _“We are better than this, Ordo.I do believe that.”_

_“Yeah, I’d like to believe that, that this is only temporary.”_

_“We will leave Taris soon, I’m sure of it.”_ And she was.There had been nothing specific, not one of her visions, just a firm awareness that her path had not crossed this man’s idly.Her hand still rested on his; she wondered how he’d react if she rubbed it gently or moved to twine her fingers in his.Instead she watched his face, saw the slow smile that relaxed the storm in his eyes, felt her own face soften in return.

_“Can I ask you something?”_ His hand moved just enough to let his little finger move ever so slightly against the side of her hand.

_“Of course.”_

_“Earlier, you did something to that guy, and maybe to the woman too, how did you do that?”_

A cold chill rushed through her veins, _witch_.She snatched back her hand and crossed her arms defensively. _“I don’t know.”_

_“You don’t know what you did?Or how?”_ He’d not moved, just watched her.She expected to see the same fear or disgust that usually came with such questions, but it wasn’t there.She allowed herself to relax just a bit at its absence. 

But how to explain? _“I don’t know how.I …sometimes I think things I want people to do and it happens…sort of.”_ She wanted to say that it terrified her, the thing she could do, because she couldn’t control it, not really, no more than she could control the visions that came unbidden.She wanted to say that it was maybe a curse, that it wasn’t worth it to have what her mother had called a connection to the Force when it hadn’t been able to save them in the end.But she didn’t, afraid of what he might think.Just another weakness.

_“You do that to me?”_ She started at the question, but there was just curiosity in his voice.

She shook her head, laughed just a bit. _“No.”_

_“You sure?”_

“ _Yeah, I’m sure.Doesn’t work on…the stubborn.”_ She smiled at that. _“I swear on my life I wouldn’t even try, Ordo, even if I thought it might work.”_ And that was true.She’d been so careful to make everything between them honest.How else could you build trust?It mattered, she knew, that he trust her.

His laugh reassured her. _“You are a most intriguing woman, Aoibhinn Fett.I’m not so sure I’d mind if you had bewitched me.”_ His words were teasing, but lit that spark in her gut nonetheless. 

****

He’d felt better after their talk.Naming the shape of his worry about what he’d become to Aoibhinn and hearing her emphatic _we are better than this_ in reply had eased his doubts about his worth, at least for the moment. His questions about what it was that she could do still remained, but he’d not been willing to press her, seeing her hurt reaction at his initial questions.There’d been stories in the war about things that the Jedi could do.Older stories, too, from the Sith War of years ago when Mandalorians had fought along side Force users like Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma. 

If she was a Force user, it didn’t change that he’d come to trust her.He hoped that she understood that, that she’d heard the meaning in his words, in the touch of his finger on her hand.At the memory of that he shook his head. _Foolish._ He knew he’d read too much in the way she’d laid her hand on his, put too much hope in the way she’d looked at him. 

He had half a mind to seek out one of Davik’s women to try to shake off his growing desire, but knew such an encounter would only make things worse.It wouldn’t be Aoibhinn. 

The Sith governor was hosting a gala and Davik had made clear that expected his top guns to escort him - and to dress for the occasion. Aoibhinn had reluctantly agreed, seeing as Canderous did the opportunity to find access to the codes they needed to clear the blockade.She’d disappeared with Davik’s current consort to find something to wear, but not before she’d somehow convinced Davik to pay them both double.

That something turned out to be a gown that managed to be both tasteful and revealing, although decidedly un-Mandalorian.He’d bet fair money she’d never actually worn a dress before, much less one that was basically backless and slit up to her thigh.She was still wearing boots though, because where else would you hide a weapon in a get-up like that?And she’d kept her elaborate braid, just wound it up, leaving her neck bare.

He felt himself staring. He’d found her attractive from the start, and had sparred with her enough to have a sense of the outlines of her body. But _gods_ …he tried to tell himself it was just the novelty of seeing her in a dress and not the bare skin and clinging fabric.

_“One word, Ordo, one word.”_

He was still staring like a fool. _“You look….”_ She shot him a warning glare.He grinned. _“Nice boots.”_

She laughed. _“I know I look like a high end joygirl.”_ He thought better of any response and simply offered an arm.He’d had to dress the part, too, finding a loaner of what counted as Tarisian formal wear, feeling nothing short of absurd - not that anyone would be looking much at him with Aoibhinn at his side. _“You know, Ordo, you clean up rather nicely,”_ she said, slipping her arm in his.

Between her touch and her words, he managed only to flush and mumble, _“As do you.”_

Nothing came of the evening so far as the codes were concerned.The food and drink were good and it was easy enough work trailing Davik as he tried to ingratiate himself with anyone who’d listen.As he suspected she might, Aoibhinn attracted plenty of attention. If he was honest, there were other more beautiful women in the room.But there was something about the way she carried herself, something in her movements, that drew many eyes, and certainly his.

When one particularly insistent Sith officer pressed Aoibhinn for a private drink for the third time, she grabbed Canderous’s arm to indicate her unavailability.He played along, sliding his arm around her waist, allowing his hand rest against the bare skin of her back.He imagined that she pressed into his touch as she waved off the unwelcome suitor.So, he risked leaving his hand, feeling her warmth, knowing she’d easily shrug him away if she wanted, but she didn’t.His thoughts drifted to wondering what it would feel like to run his hands across the rest of her body, to slip his fingers under the edge of the dress to touch her still covered skin.He cursed himself for it. 

After they’d escorted Davik back, they sat on the roof of his compound, sharing a last drink as the sun rose over the upper city.He had no excuse to touch her now, but thought maybe she sat closer than she’d needed to.If she’d been another woman, he’d have made an offer, at least tried his luck at kissing her.But something in him whispered, _do this right._ And he wanted to.

*****

When she’d grabbed his arm at the gala, it was as much about having the excuse as it was about waving off the Sith goon. That he’d let his hand linger as he had, sent her wanting more. They’d touched plenty in the weeks of their partnership, hard contact while sparring, causal brushes of fingers over meals. Even so, there was something about the way his hand had burned at her bare skin that had made that thing flare deep within her; she knew she wouldn’t have minded if his fingers had slipped past the boundaries of her dress.

It was pretty clear they shared a mutual physical attraction at the least; neither of them was particularly shy about the way they watched each other and they were both prone to suggestive teasing.She wondered why they’d not acted on it, but was also glad they hadn’t. _Maybe there’s something better here_ , _something worth the wait_. She could still feel the ghost of his hand at her back.

The Aoibhinn from before would have traced a finger across the scar above his eye, would have run her hands through his short gray hair, and pulled him to kiss her as they’d sat on the roof.That Aiobhinn might have let that ridiculous dress slip off a shoulder to invite his caress, would have pressed her hips to his to invite even more.But her curiosity at the other thing she felt as they’d watched the sun rise had caused to not to act on that wanting.Not yet.

She kept the damn dress though.You never knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next....we run into the rest of the gang!


	4. Tal Aren

“How are you feeling?”The face in front of him was unfamiliar, concerned brown eyes and half a frown.Actually, everything was unfamiliar, the feel of the bed underneath him, the smell of the room they were in.He tried to sit despite the pain in his head and thickness on his tongue; his chest felt tight like he couldn’t get a breath.“Whoa, easy there.”That voice was soothing though; he could hold on to that voice.Firm hands helped him up to sit, coaxed air back into his lungs.“What do you remember?”

Nothing.

The other man watched him carefully for a few minutes, then handed him a glass.“Wanna try some water?” He gulped greedily, feeling the dryness in his throat ease just a bit.“Was worried you weren’t going to wake up.Good sign that you have.I think you’ll be ok.”He handed the glass back, hoping for more.

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy, out-of-practice sounding.

“Carth Onasi, from the Endar Spire, remember?”

Nothing.

“You hit your head pretty good when we crashed.Escape pod.Not sure anyone else made it.” Onasi sounded sad, was looking at him like he needed him to remember something.

Nothing. 

“We are on Taris.I managed to drag you here.We got lucky.”Onasi frowned at that moved to stand.“We’ll need to get moving soon though.Lots of Sith around.Taris was already under occupation, but things have really tightened down since the spat that landed us here.”

Sith.That meant something.Sith.Jedi.There was a war.Taris.Endar Spire.“Why was I on the ship?” 

“You don’t remember?”

He shook his head, felt hard to think.“No, I don’t remember anything.”

Onasi looked worried, reached a hand to brush back his hair.“You’ve got a pretty nasty gash here still.Only had a few medpacs.Did the best I could with that.Bleeding has stopped at least, but I’m guessing you’ll have a scar.”The hand felt cool against the ache of his head.He wanted to close his eyes again, let that coolness wash over him completely.“Hey, stay with me ok.”

He crashed back on the bed, eyes slamming shut.

When he woke again, Onasi was still there.“Thought I’d lost you there for a minute.” 

“How long…”It was still hard to make a full thought.He longed for the coolness of that hand again against the pain in his head.

“Just an hour or so this time.Longer before though.”He tried to sit.“Take it easy, ok.”The firm hands reached to help him again.

“I don’t remember.”

“Yeah, you said. I think it’s from the crash, hitting your head, probably just temporary.” 

That didn’t feel right though.“No, I don’t remember anything.”Panic rose in his throat.Something in the other man’s eyes tamped it back.“Nothing.I don’t even know my name.”

“Tal Aren.You’re a fleet scout, assigned under Bastila Shan, the Jedi.”Onasi stopped, searching his face.“Doesn’t ring a bell, huh?”He shook his head and Onasi continued.“We were on the Endar Spire, Republic ship.Sith attacked us.Just made it out.Not sure anyone else did.”Onasi talked faster now, like he was suddenly nervous.“We are on Taris, Sith occupied.Do you remember the war?”

Did he remember the war?Vaguely.“Sort of.Um…Revan and Malak and…”. He shook his head, like grasping at ghosts.

“Yeah, Malak.Revan’s dead.”Onasi frowned again.“I’m hoping Bastila Shan made it out.She was on an escape pod before us.Could be here on Taris.She could explain more I’m sure….about who you are I mean.”

Revan was dead.How had he forgotten that?The sharp pain in his temple flared.“We got anything to eat?”

“Yeah, sure.Ration bars. Take it easy though.Head injury and all.”

Onasi handed him a datapad with his service record as he ate.Seemed pretty bare bones but since he couldn’t remember his name even what did he know.And there was his picture, _Tal Aren, Scout Class B,_ underneath.That also meant nothing.He wondered if maybe Onasi was just setting the whole thing up, realized he could have been, but thought he seemed too honest, his eyes too sincere.Of course, he remembered nothing so how was he supposed to trust some gut feeling?

A few hours and a couple of ration bars later and he felt well enough to get out of the room.Onasi had filled in some of the rest of the story, explained the urgency of figuring out if Bastila, who was apparently a Jedi, had made it planet-side.As they talked, he realized that he could remember things that weren’t directly about him - the war, Taris, those things came fairly quickly into focus.But as for his own history, what made the man Tal Aren, that was still just a blank.

Onasi squinted his eyes at his offer to accompany him to scout out the area, “You sure?”And he was.Sitting in this grubby apartment wasn’t doing him any favors and he the prospect of a stretch after days laying in the lumpy bed sounded just right.

They’d hardly made it past the door when they heard the voices, a mix of an unfamiliar tongue and Basic, something angry and something afraid. Onasi started to stop him, grabbed his arm, “We need to be careful, not draw attention to ourselves _.”_ But he saw the vibroblade just sitting there, picked it up driven by some unseen hand.And then he struck, right before the angry voice took out the afraid one. 

It was then he felt it.Something like a flash or a flicker that said, _You remember_ , something that was familiar in the weight of the blade in his hand, the ease with which he swung it.You couldn’t really call it a _memory_ as vague as it was, but it was the first time since he’d woken up in the apartment that he felt the fog in his mind lift, just a bit.

After, Onasi regarded him carefully, gave a wary sort of laugh, “Guess you’re a melee guy, huh?”

He kept the blade.

They spent several weeks coming the streets of Taris for any leads on either Bastila’s whereabouts or a way off the planet. The blade had come in handy on more than one occasion given the relative lawlessness of the lower levels of Taris.The Sith maintained a constant presence in the more well-to-do upper city, but their numbers appeared too few to manage the gangs and low-grade chaos of the rest of the place - or maybe they just figured the misery of Taris that never saw the sun would fight itself to death, making their job a bit easier. 

In the days that they spent exploring Taris, Onasi had shared at least surface information about himself - that he was a Republic pilot, had served in the war, was from Telos.If Aren asked too many questions, the man would clam up, get a sort of far-away look in his eye, “Don’t want to talk about that,” he’d say.He was clearly every bit the solider he’d claimed to be though, good with his blasters and smart about keeping them mostly out of trouble. 

Aren found he wanted to understand that far-away look, probably just a misplaced desire to fill in the blanks of his own history because Onasi seemed more real to him than he did to himself.Tal Aren was just a name and a rank, nothing more.

Despite his lack of memory about his life, Aren did seem to have unconscious awareness about at least some aspects of himself - the fighting for example.There were other things, too, like knowing several languages and having some decent mechanical skills. Between the two of them he and Onasi managed both to secure enough credits to kit up with weapons, armor, and basic supplies and to help out some of the less fortunate they encountered.

Somehow they’d also wound up earning a life debt from a Wookie, or rather Aren had, which meant the Wookie and his teenage Twi’lek sidekick seemed to now be along for the ride. 

“So you really don’t remember anything about yourself, huh?”The girl, Mission, talked a lot.Aren found that soothing in a way, made up for all the silences he couldn’t fill.“Well, you seem pretty ok, helping out Big Z and all.Most humans on Taris don’t really care much about non-humans, you know.”He had noticed that, but somehow the girl’s words needled at the blanks in his mind - _you’ve been here before._

Turned out Bastila Shan was alive, and being held by the Black Vulkers, one of the swoop gangs that ran the lower city.Aren felt somewhat indifferent about the news having no memory of the woman or his alleged connection to her.But Onasi seemed pleased, eager to figure out a way to break her out, so Aren found himself caring, too.

The Vulker’s rivals, the Hidden Beks, had offered to help - or rather, they’d offered to let Tal Aren ride one of their swoop bikes in the upcoming race; the Vulkers were putting the kidnapped Jedi up as a prize.All they had to do was steal some prototype swoop bike engine from the Vulker’s base.Maybe swoop racing was another latent talent; one could hope anyway.

Mission knew a back way into the Vulker’s base and was confident she could hack their security systems, so they headed back to the undercity.As they entered the sewers, Aren saw a face in the shadows out of the corner of his eye.When he turned, it was gone. Something about the face he’d hardly seen poked again at the blanks in his mind - _you know that face_.

The dreams had started after the first day he was awake on Taris.The first few nights he’d just been left with the vague sense that he’d dreamed of something unpleasant, painful even.After a week or so, it started to come more in to focus - he was on a ship, they’d been boarded, there was a flash of red light and then darkness.Soon he saw the outlines of another ship in the dream; there was something about that ship that should matter.In the dream, he watched it from the bridge, saw the flashes of light, an explosion, and the darkness. 

It must be the Endar Spire he was remembering.When he’d asked Onasi about it, he’d gotten that worried look in return.“Yeah, there were Jedi and dark Jedi, that would be the lights I guess, their lightsabers, but…” He hadn’t wanted to continue, but Aren had pressed.“You would never have been on the bridge and there wasn’t an explosion.Not like that.”

So it was just a dream and nothing real at all then.

Except… the details kept coming.In the dream, he felt betrayed by something (someone?), but felt confident, too, that he knew how to fight and to win.He was on the bridge, he was sure, could see clearly the other ship, felt the presence of the thing that betrayed.Then there were others, a woman’s face in the glow of an amber light.And then the explosion.There was something important in that darkness that followed the explosion, a voice pulling him by a thread.When he woke from the dream, the memory of what had been real felt so close, but would crumble right as he reached for it.

By the time they found the Jedi, he’d grown resigned to the dream, just another side effect of having hit his head perhaps, something his subconscious had created to protect him from the damage of the blow. But as soon as he saw her by the swoop track guarded by Brejik’s goons, caged and dressed like a joygirl on display, he knew the dream wasn’t just a dream but rather a memory.Bastila Shan had been on the bridge of that ship with him, he was sure of it.

Bastila had seemed surprised to see him, not particularly happy he thought.Her face had scrunched as he and Onasi had explained the events since the crash; her eyes flashed with some unclear emotion as he’d explained his lack of memory, “I’m afraid even you are a mystery to me, despite our past acquaintance.”At that she merely reiterated the tale Onasi had told, that he was a Republic scout under her command.

Onasi and the Jedi had been at it since they’d returned to the apartment from the swoop track.Maybe it started because she’d claimed that she’d been the one doing the rescuing or maybe because he’d given her a hard time for losing her lightsaber when her escape pod crashed. 

Aren just squinted at the woman while they argued, trying to decide if he should ask about the ship and the bridge and the explosion of his dream that was really a memory. 

Tal Aren’s service record made no mention of another mission under Bastila Shan.Could be an explanation for that, maybe some classified mission.Onasi had suggested Aren’s skills outshone his rank and record, a incongruity that could mean something - or nothing at all.

Maybe he had served under Bastila Shan on the ship in the dream.He decided against asking about that, something for later, instead found himself grinning with laughter at her ridiculous behavior - a good distraction.He may have come to trust Onasi with his life these past few weeks, but there was something lost in the blanks of his mind about this woman that made it difficult to give her that same trust.

“Listen, Bastila, if you want to be a leader how about try listening to the rest of your team and stop acting like a spoiled child.”Onasi’s words were harsh, but his expression wasn’t - amused maybe?Aren wasn’t sure.

The woman huffed and crossed her arms. “Fine Carth.Perhaps you are right.You do have considerably more military experience than I do despite the worth of my battle meditation.”Aren stifled another laugh over the shift in Onasi’s expression at the woman’s haughty arrogance.“In any case, we won’t get off Taris sitting in this…this apartment.”

“Sheesh, and you call me a kid.”Aren laughed again at Mission’s astute observation.“How about we hit the cantina.Me and Big Z are hungry and you pick up all sorts of useful info listening the chatter of folks who’ve been drinking.”

Aren shook his head to clear himself of his laughter, “Solid plan, Mission, let’s go.”

They’d not gotten out of the building before they were approached by a nervous Twi’lek man.“Nice work at the swoop track, stranger.”Aren narrowed his eyes and didn’t answer.“Yeah, I know that was you.Anyway, gotta message for you from Canderous Ordo.He wants to met you at the cantina.Says its urgent.” 

Onasi jumped in, “Who’s that and what does he want?” 

“I don’t know.Just know he’s not the kind of guy you say no to.Mandalorian.Works for Davik and the Exchange.Don’t want to mess with that.”And then the guy was gone.

Onasi and Bastila were united in their protest that this was likely a bad idea, but something in Aren’s gut told him they needed to take the meeting.So they did, despite the worry in Onasi’s eyes and the suspicion in Bastila’s.


	5. Canderous & Aoibhinn

Their opportunity to steal the codes came a few weeks later in the form of a pair of Republic acting soldiers, a Jedi, a Twi’lek girl, and a Wookie.They’d watched with calculated interest as the mismatched crew burned through the Vulker’s base, pulled out a ridiculous win at the swoop track, and then sliced down Brejik to rescue the damn Jedi. Maybe this crew had the guts and luck to pull off a raid on the Sith base for the codes; if they were Republic, they’d be eager to get off Taris and likely willing to take on the risk.

They sat at the back of the cantina, considering making contact. _“So, what do you think?”_ Canderous floated the plan.It felt strange to have a true partner for the first time in years, to actually care for Aoibhinn’s thoughts on the matter.Her eyes focused intently on one of the men. _“You got a feeling on this?”_ he nudged.

She frowned. _“Yeah, sorry.I was just thinking that the galaxy is a big place.And yet…”._ She let her words trail off.

_“I take it we aren’t talking about our friends over there?”_

She didn’t acknowledge the question. _“I’m just thinking about how the Jedi claim that everything is driven by the Force.That there are no coincidences.”_ This was the first time she’d spoken of Jedi or named the Force.He thought of the things he’d seen her do, the weapons on her belt. _“My mother used to say that.One of the few things I remember about her.”_ First she’d spoken of her mother as well. _“What do you think?”_

Her frown had softened into a ghost of a smile, the real one, her eyes sought his for an answer, an answer he was unsure how to give.He knew nothing of the Force and figured that Jedi were like all people - some like Revan and his generals were worthy opponents; others were cowards.It felt like maybe she was asking something else.But what?He leaned towards her; their hands on the table brushed, but she did not pull back, just repeated her question, “ _What do you think, Canderous Ordo?”_

Recounting the actions of battle was easy, but a question like this left him feeling addled and muddy as he’d never been good with words that spoke of deeper things. The noise of the cantina faded and he wondered if she could hear his heart beating.The pressure of her hand beside his own and the intensity of her gaze prodded him to speak. _“I don’t know about your Force,”_ he acknowledged what he knew about her. _“But I think we always have the choice to make what we will of the opportunities before us.Life is not meant to be played out in what-ifs, with fear and caution.Every warrior knows each day may be his last.”_ He paused, watching the flicker in her expression. _“But that’s not what drives us.It’s the thrill of living, the squeezing out of the sensations of life, that’s what drives us.”_

“Shereshoy.” Her finger traced back and forth across his hand.

 _“Yeah,”_ he nodded, his own true smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Shereshoy.”

She thought for a moment, _“Then let us seize the opportunity before us, Ordo.”_ She looked to their targets, trading her true smile for the smirk he knew now as her mask; the spell of the previous moment dissipated. _“If they fail, we’ll be no worse off than we are now.And if not….well, I have a feeling that we’ll be the proud owners of a new ship in a week’s time.”_ They set the plan in motion.

Later, he wondered what opportunity they’d been considering.

****

Canderous had done the talking, explained their offer.She’d introduced herself but said little else, just watched their faces, tried to puzzle out their thoughts.There was a reason they’d called her the shadow during the war.And Canderous hardly needed her help.He’d been right that they were Republic and right again that they’d be eager to jump at even at this somewhat flimsy opportunity to get off world.That they’d even taken the conversation with two obviously Mandalorian mercenaries spoke to that. 

It wasn’t particularly clear who was in charge of their little group.The Jedi woman, Bastila, seemed to think she was, kept giving a haughty sniff when one of the others disagreed with her.Aoibhinn wondered at her skill; she’d let the Vulkers hold her prisoner…but she’d also made quick work of that smarmy bastard Brejik in the end.Maybe she was just a bit undisciplined.The Twi’lek girl, Mission, and her Wookie friend Big Z, she recognized from the lower city.The girl ran with the Beks or wanted to.Interesting that she’d found herself in this company.

It was the two men who did most of the talking with Canderous, working out the details.Onasi claimed to be a pilot - useful if he was any good.Canderous could fly in a pinch, but even with the codes, it would be better to have a skilled pilot at the helm to run the blockade.The other man, Tal Aren, was the one she was most interested in.He claimed that he’d suffered a head injury, had no memories of his life before they’d crashed on Taris.She thought of a man in a mask who had grabbed her wrist and told her to run.The holos had said that man was dead, her instinct said, _maybe not_ , the memory of her mother whispered, _much is the will of the Force_.

“And if we are unsuccessful?” That was the Jedi, doubt creeping into her voice.

Canderous answered her simply, “Then you will be dead or captured and we will have to find another way.”The woman huffed in annoyance.

“It’s simple really,” Aoibhinn offered, speaking for the first time since giving her name earlier.“Don’t fail.Then we all get what we want.”

With that, the meeting was over.They’d be waiting here in three days time.If this group managed to get the codes, they’d show up then.If not, well, that was the end of it.Tal Aren caught her eye as they rose to leave. _“Until we meet again,”_ she offered in Mando’a.He said nothing, just nodded and narrowed his eyes as though he was trying to remember.

The two of them lingered after the others had left. _“Have you thought about where you’ll go once you are off Taris?”_ In the weeks they’d spent together, neither had spoken much about what might come next.She knew she would keep chasing her ghosts.But what path for Canderous Ordo?

He sat with the question for a while, watching the whiskey slosh as he rocked his glass. _“If you’d asked me that question two months ago, I’m not sure what answer I’d have given.I’m not sure I saw a future for myself.”_ She ached at that, that he might think of himself as broken. _“But now,”_ he continued. _“Now, I want to find home again, Aoibhinn.”_ His gray eyes stared at her hard.

 _“What’s at home?_ ”She half feared his answer.Foolish though as he had no obligation to her. _“You have a family, then?You’ve not spoken of that.”_

 _“Nor have you,”_ he reminded her.He emptied his glass and poured another. _“But no.None that are left anyway.”_

He was staring at his glass again.She thought she should just drop it, but needed to know, asked what she’d guessed at before. _“You were wed…before I mean?Had a family?”_ His jaw clinched at her question.

 _“Yeah.”_ He drained his glass again.

She’d gone too far. _“I’m sorry.I shouldn’t have asked. I…”_

 _“It’s just a question, Aoibhinn.”_ He caught her gaze, a sort of sad smile on his face. _“It’s just been a while since I’ve spoken of it is all.”_

_“You don’t have to now.”_

_“I know.”_ Something shone in his eyes. _“But I want to.Your question is worthy of an answer.You are worthy of an answer.I had a wife, yes…. Mairen.We wed young.”_ He swallowed hard.She wanted to reach out and lay a hand on his arm, but didn’t dare. _“Not sure I was a good husband.I thought I loved her, of course.But the crusade, well, that came first.Not sure it should have.”_ He toyed with the glass again. _“She died, in battle.Some ten years ago now.”_

She felt he wasn’t finished but need to ease the hurt on his face. _“You honor her memory…”_

He cut her off, _“We had a son.”_ Of course that made sense.Often she forget the years that he had on her, that he would have loved and had a family while she herself was still a child.She blinked at her foolish impulse to slide around the table and offer some sort of comfort. 

_“Ordo, I…I didn’t mean to dredge up things you’d rather not speak of.”_

_“I want you to know.”_ She wondered why that mattered. _“We had a son, Elias.”_ His eyes looked distant with memory. _“He was a strong boy, smart and witty.Even after his mother died, he wanted to fight.Had promise, too.Would have risen the ranks.”_ He laughed a bit. _“Now I just sound like an indulgent father.”_

 _“You loved him.”_ A simple thing, but so clearly true.

 _“Yeah.He…he was …he died too…barely a man.”_ His voice broke.

 _“I’m sorry, I…”_ Her hand found his, just lightly; she needed him to know that she was there, that he was not alone in sorrow.

 _“There are always losses.”_

They sat in silence a bit, her fingers just brushing his. _“I will remember them.”_ It felt like too small a thing to offer in exchange for what he’d shared.She hoped it was enough.

His fingers moved to lace with hers. _“Thank you.”_ They stared then at their hands, clasped in the middle of the table.His thumb rubbed gently in small circles.She didn’t want him to let go. _“We all know loss, now, do we not?”_ He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, expectant. 

How to answer? She had known loss of course, her mother as a child, the lost siblings.Her father most recently.Lovers, too, although none she remembered.That felt like a different sort of loss. _“Yes, but I had no…I was never wed, never found someone who….”_ She felt her face twist with frustration, wanted to tell him of things that she only half understood.Wanted to tell him about the hand that had yanked her back from the depths of Malachor, the voice that told her to run, the other who shared her face.But she was afraid, afraid of losing him to the strangeness of what she believed to be true. _“I guess only my father was left and after Malachor….no one.”_

 _“Perhaps we’ve wandered alone for too long, Aoibhinn.”_ As his thumb pressed steadily against her hand, she remembered her earlier impulse to embrace him, wondered what would happen if she gave in to it. _“I’ve lingered too long in this in-between place.I need to find home again.”_

_“Maybe we can.”_ And maybe he’d see in her eyes what she couldn’t find the words to say.

****

He’d not been sure they’d pull it off, but they had.Three days after their first meeting, the ragtag bunch had made contact again, said they’d gotten the codes.He and Aoibhinn agreed to meet them at an apartment in the upper city to make their final preparations.

Planning something that was even a modest challenge felt good, reminded him of battles past.Not that this was much of a battle, but still the situation called for organizing, strategizing.Gave him an opportunity, too, to watch Aoibhinn’s tactical mind in action, for him to show off his own.Didn’t much care for the way Aoibhinn watched the man Tal Aren though. _Don’t be a fool._

Odd team this.Soldiers were soldiers he figured.Onasi had the look of a man who’d known war and loss about him; Canderous pegged him for the leader of the group no matter what the Jedi said.Aren was harder to read, claimed he’d hit his head hard and didn’t have memories of himself.Didn’t seem to affect his ability to fight, though, based on what Canderous had seen at the swoop track.

Wookies could fight, too; easy enough to respect that. But Zaalbar didn’t speak Basic despite appearing to understand it, so unless the girl or Aren translated for him, he had little to say.The girl, Mission, fancied herself a Bek.Had a smart mouth on her that one, not a bad quality, especially for a kid mostly on her own in the streets of Taris.The Jedi princess fancied herself clever-tongued as well, but on her it was hardly charming; he didn’t much care either for the way she was eyeing Aoibhinn’s sabers, like she wanted to ask what business she had wearing them.The others must have wondered, too, why a Mandalorian wore Jedi weapons, but had manners enough to pretend they hadn’t noticed.

Anyway, they’d held up their end of the deal and had gotten the codes.It was time to take what Davik owed him and get the hell off this rock.The questions about what was next for him, for Aoibhinn, would have to wait until they had the ship.He caught her watching him, a ghost of a smile in her eyes, remembered the feel of her hand in his as he’d spoken of finding home.Maybe he wan’t a fool after all.Well, the answer to that would have to come later.

Davik had locked them in the guest wing of his compound, not an auspicious start to this endeavor. “He’s suspicious, obviously.And not a fool.”Aoibhinn squinted at Onasi, “You don’t make a particularly convincing mercenary.No offense.”Canderous had introduced the two men as potential new partners, more goons for Davik’s gang.That had gotten them in the door only to land them locked up here. 

“Yeah, none taken.Pretty sure it’s not a life goal.No offense.”

“A temporary situation for all of us.” Aoibhinn paced.Canderous could see her thinking, plotting multiple backup plans.Suddenly she stopped, an odd pained expression on her face.He called her name, but she looked past him, to some thing only she saw, shook her head and blinked her eyes. 

“Aoibhinn?”Whatever was happening to her wasn’t good.

“Shit.” She finally met his gaze, that strange expression still there.“We have to move.He’s coming.”

“What are you talking about?Davik?”His chest tightened, knowing that’s not what she’d meant. She’d seen something. 

“No, Malak.”He saw Tal Aren start out of the corner of his eye.

“How do you know that?” Onasi asked.

Her words were directed at Onasi but her eyes remained on Canderous.“Because I know things…sometimes.I’m sure about this.We don’t have long.”She frowned.“Taris will burn.”

“The hells?Why would Malak bomb Taris, his own men?” 

She looked to Onasi then.“We need to go, now, or there won’t be time to get the others.”Onasi cursed softly.“I do not mean to die here today.”

Canderous found the corner of his mouth curled at that.“Well, guess we’ll just have to fight our way to the ship now, not wait for later.” He prepped charges to blast the door.

Onasi protested, “There are only four of us.And how many of Davik’s men around right now?Not a very good plan.”

Aoibhinn had recovered her cocky grin.“Thought you and Aren were soldiers, Onasi.Does the Republic not teach its soldiers to fight when the numbers are against them?”She’d pulled her blades.“Davik’s men are mostly poor fighters.Canderous and I are very good,” he smiled fully at that, “and, as I said, I do not intend to die here today.”

And then the damn woman winked at him. 

Aoibhinn was right, of course.Davik’s men had poor aim and were largely worthless with blades, too much time spent drinking and flaunting about and too little training.Their numbers alone gave a bit of a challenge, but the four of them had managed to get to the hanger withoutmuch trouble.Turned out that the Republic trained at least some of their soldiers well; neither Aren with his blades or Onasi with his blasters was a slouch.

Luck - or the Force depending on your perspective - had been with them as well.They’d stumbled on a poor schmuck in Davik’s lock-up who gave them what he claimed were the override codes on the Ebon Hawk’s security system in exchange for releasing him.Maybe Aoibhinn had just done that mind thing again.Or maybe the codes were fake.One way to find out.

Onasi scrambled on board to fire up the engines, while they stayed by the boarding ramp just in case any last minute resistance popped up.Aoibhinn was getting twitchy, whatever she sensed before he guessed.Must have been right though as they could hear the start of what sounded like a bombardment in the distance.

“Damn Sith are bombing the whole planet, turned on their own troops the cowards.”Canderous snorted.Didn’t mind at all that Davik would witness him taking off with his ship.Didn’t mind either that he’d brought his little attack dog Calo Nord along with him. He’d be happy to end the both of them.

“Well, well, what have we here?Trying to take off with my ship, Ordo?You and your girl?”Aoibhinn snarled at that, whether in anger at being called girl or the suggestion that she was Canderous’s woman he wasn’t sure.

“My ship now Davik.But…it’s been a pleasure.” 

“What’s the plan here, Ordo?”Aren had his blades at the ready, stood on the boarding ramp, bouncing on the balls of his feet just slightly. 

Canderous cocked his head, daring Davik and Nord to strike.“Oh, I don’t think so.”And, of course, the little bastard had one of his damn thermal detonators; Nord always fought dirty.

The next bit happened so quickly that Canderous would spend days trying to figure out how it all went without success.The world around them had exploded, either Sith bombs or Nord’s detonator, or maybe both.Somehow they were still on their feet or got there quickly, somehow the hanger blowing apart around them hadn’t crushed them or the ship, somehow Onasi had fired up the engines, started pulling off even as they scrambled on board.

Hours later when they’d collected the others and cleared the Sith blockade, he crashed exhausted on one of the benches in the common area, considering what might come next.He didn’t see her at first in the mostly dark room, but as his eyes adjusted, he made out Aoibhinn’s sleeping form on the opposite bench, curled up small, knees drawn up to her chest.He grinned noting that she gripped her boot knife in one hand even as she slept.Impossible damn woman.

It was tempting to wonder how it might feel if she rested against him instead of the bulkhead, if she’d still feel the need for the knife if she slept in his arms.Those foolish thought lingered until his own eyes drifted closed and his body relaxed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus our Ebon Hawk crew heads to Dantooine! Stay tuned (I hope!) for the next in the series which will cover events there. Always happy to hear your thoughts :)

**Author's Note:**

> Story continues in Dantooine - Ruyot (History)....


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